


Filth

by FriendOfTheFugitive



Series: Love In Kirkwall, Of All Places [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Blood Magic, Dragon Age Quest: Best Served Cold, F/M, Fenris Has Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7379656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendOfTheFugitive/pseuds/FriendOfTheFugitive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris' guard has lowered since the death of Danarius, which produces dire consequences when an old enemy returns for revenge. It stirs up old memories for Fenris, ones that he has been fighting off since he could remember.</p><p>
  <i>Act 3 spoilers - Best Served Cold fleshed out</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Filth

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like Fenris’ reaction to this whole thing was a bit OC (yes, Fenris would apologize for putting Hawke in danger) seemed so calm about the whole thing and that really bothered me. So I took it upon myself to write what I would have liked to see happen.

His eyes were lulling shut, as if an invisible force weighed down upon them. The harder he fought to keep them open, the heavier they became. He blamed the book his nose was currently buried in - denying even a sliver of the apparent exhaustion he was suffering from following Hawke around for six days straight. He slept at her estate most nights, but her nightmares and other vices that were easily triggered seemed to keep them both awake. In truth, Fenris didn't mind. His nightmares were fading, but her's were just beginning. She had been there for him - even when they were apart. It would be selfish to turn her away now; he loved her too much to let her go again.

A rather large yawn gripped him, his jaw cracked softly from the stretch. He sighed deeply and set his book down on the floor by his rickety bed. It had been so long that the sound almost alarmed him - no longer was he use to the little noises his mansion made during the night. He laid on his side and pulled the pillow against him by wrapping his arms around it. He settled in easily, not even bothering to wear his armor or have his sword near him. His biggest threat was gone from this world - _what did he have to fear?_

A gauntleted hand clamped over his mouth, startling him with a violent jolt. The metal cut into his face as he tried to pull against it. His markings burned to life, the pain completely dulled by pure adrenaline. His hand curved behind his head and jammed easily into his attacker’s chest. He materialized his hand and yanked it out of his flesh, pulling out a dying heart with his bare fist. He needed to get to his armor - the extraction left his wrist with a long cut around it from the attacker's armor.

He heard the body fall behind him as he leaped towards his armor. His ears were perked high on his head, alert. His fingers grazed the end of his gauntlets before powerful arms wrapped around his waist and yanked him backwards, onto his feet. The man was very large and very built, but Fenris was solid muscle and small enough to be quicker. A man and a woman were rushing towards him, clad in Templar armor. The woman grabbed one flailing hand and the man grabbed the other. Fenris gritted his teeth, allowing a concentrated buildup of energy shoot from his being. It ripped cleanly through those directly around him. He went crashing to the ground with the severed bodies.

He managed to twist in the air, landing on his hands and knees like a cat. His hair obscured his eyes as he stared down at the floor. His breathing was ragged. Since Danarius, his guard had slipped - the only thing he was grateful for was that Hawke was nowhere near this place. If he had failed to protect her...footsteps were rapidly clicking against his stone floors. His eyes, wild and vicious, snapped upwards. The man wavered in his resolve. This little elf was surrounded by dead men, all maimed in some way and all wearing his armor. It could just as easily been him.

“What are you waiting for?! Grab him while he's down!” A woman shouted from behind him, it was a voice he had heard once or twice while traveling through Lowtown, but it wasn't anyone familiar. The man rushed him. Fenris snarled and leaped to his feet. He ran straight for the man, facing him with unflinching strength. The man's steps slowed - he doubted his decision to attack, just in time it seemed. Fenris had disappeared.

Both Templars glanced around in anticipation - he couldn't have just vanished. “ _There he-!_ ” it was a shimmer of blue light that indicated his oncoming attack, but by the time her brain caught on, she had a gauntleted hand shoved between her shattered ribs. He looked her right in the eye, and as she gasped her last breath, he yanked out of her and threw her heart behind him. It slid across the floor to the other man's feet. He took a step back, queasy. Fenris inhaled deeply and turned towards the man. His expression was dark, his eyes showing a sort of drive that would scare anyone. This man was trained and he was out for blood. _Was it worth it?_

Fenris sprung, like a predator on its prey. The man screamed, flinching from the horror that awaited him, but he was met with no pain. He heard a solid thud not two feet from him. With hesitancy, he opened his eyes to see Fenris on his hands and knees directly in front of his feet. “ _Enough of this madness!_ Take him to the Wounded Coast.”

Fenris tried to lift his head to confirm who he thought the voice belong too, but the weight that bared heavy upon his body wouldn't let him. He couldn't move, and his skin felt like it was burning. He recognized the feeling. His blood began to boil - the magical taint had touched him once again and he was helpless to stop it. He attempted to fight it, his markings burned bright. The pressure only grew stronger. There was a sharp sting on the back of his head and everything went black.

“Fenris... _Fenris!_ ”

He shot upwards with a harsh snarl, his markings flared to life as breath flooded back into his system. A soft hand pushed gently into his tunic, halting him in his movements. “Fenris...” she spoke in her soft voice. The breathy quality he had grown so accustomed to caused pure comfort to wash over him. He signed deeply, gaining his control back over himself. The burning sensation he felt earlier still lingered on his skin. He was uncomfortable.

“Fenris...” she whispered again, but he ignored her. He slowly got to his feet and she followed. He looked around, his tired eyes searched frantically for _her_. He spotted the purple hue of her robe and that was enough for him. He felt Hawke's fingers brush along the back of his arm but he brushed her off with a slight pull.

“I'll be at home,” he began walking before suddenly stopping, his head turned over his shoulder, “thank you - for saving me.” Hawke nodded and he briskly walked off, his toes pressed hard into the sand with each purposeful stride. He could _feel_ their sympathy chasing after him, and he didn't want it.

He must have retreated deep into his mind because he didn't remember how he managed to get into Hawke's room, staring down at her steaming tub. The water was warm and freshly poured. He was naked, but his clothes were not in the immediate area. He grabbed her scrub brush and a bar of soap before slipping into the water. He rubbed the soap between his hands, creating as much bubbles as he could before the soap popped out of his hand and slid across the floor away from the tub. He ignored it and ran his hands over the stiff bristles, letting the soap get on the brush.

He started to scrub his body with hard strokes. He reached everywhere, twisting and turning. The water sloshed out of the tub, creating a puddle on the floor. He growled, scrubbing harder. The taint that burned on his skin felt like it was still there, suffocating him. He felt trapped in his own body and he hated it. He pressed the brush into his skin and began to scrub vigorously - the bristles bit into his skin. Anger boiled in his system, an intense need to punish himself rose with it. He yelled angrily.

His pace verged on violent, his skin began to bleed. His markings flared, which only felt like more filth stuck on his skin. He saw the water turning a light shade of red and without thinking, he hurled the brush across the room. It smacked into a wall with a loud crack - the wooden handle had splintered apart. He took a deep breath and slumped down into the water. His hands wrapped around the sides, holding him under. He stared at the ceiling with an angry glare, the red tint of the water rippled.

He blinked, continuing to stare. He wasn't surprised when a familiar face peaked over the water. She blinked at him, a blank look on her face. He parted his lips, letting a bubble of air rise to the surface to let her know that he was indeed alive. She wasn't worried - Fenris wouldn't drown himself.

She moved from his vision and when he felt calm enough to emerge from the water, he saw that she had pulled up a chair and was leaning forward. She was in one of his tunics and some rolled up, baggy trousers. They were her lazy clothes - ones she would paint or clean in.

He took a deep breath and tucked his knees into his chest. He rested his chin on his knees and stared forward. His skin burned, but it felt clean. He couldn't see, but he was bright red with darker red spots dotting his skin from scrubbing too hard. His white hair was smoothed back with water, revealing the three, triangular shaped dots on the center of his forehead.

“The day I escaped Danarius is the day I vowed to never allow Blood Magic to touch my skin again. That was one of the many promises I assumed would be easy to keep - but I have failed. I put you in danger, aswell.” He spoke evenly, his tone indicated no sense of emotion or remorse, but the look on his face said it all.

It broke Hawke's heart to see him like this. She kept her gaze on him, remaining calm. This situation could go either way, and as much as she wanted to reach for him, pull him out of the tub and just hold him - she know she couldn't without an indication from him that he wanted to be touched.

He took a deep breath and turned his head so his cheek was resting on his knees. His face was covered with droplets of water. They didn't hide the tears that brimmed his eyes, “do you have a towel?” The words were tight, but he spoke them without much effort.

She nodded and pulled the towel from the back of her chair. She placed it over her neck and offered her hand to him. He stood from the tub, his eyes still downcast. The water fell from the ridges of his body, splashing back into the tub. He took her hand and moved from the tub, stepping into the puddle he made earlier.

She pulled the white towel from her neck and wrapped it around her hand so she could make a cushy end of it. “May I?” she asked softly. He nodded and she began to gently dab the droplets from his skin with the soft fabric. She glided it along his markings, hoping to replace the burning sensation or at least dull it.

They were silent for a moment. When Fenris was mostly dry, she placed the towel over his shoulders and he pulled it over his head and rubbed it on his hair. Hawke moved in front of him, “What happened wasn't your fault.”

“I'm...sorry?”

“What happened – _it wasn’t your fault._ ”

He moved the towel from his face and wrapped it around his waist. He was quiet, his eyes still low. Hawke reached for his face, her palm brushed along his cheek. As soon as the tips of her fingers touched the first curve of his ear, he wrapped his arms around her waist and tucked his face in her neck. A sob shook his body, “I'm sorry, Adria...”

“You're okay, my love. I'm here...you're safe...” she whispered, feeling the dampness of his tears brush along her skin. She hugged him tightly, gently rocking him in her arms. He continued sobbing, and she gave him the space safe enough to do just that.


End file.
